The Red, The Black, And The White
by Reallybored2
Summary: What if Buffy never used the Carpal Tunnel excuse?


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Disclaimer: Nope, nothing here is mine. Nothing! All materials and things related to _Buffy The Vampire Slayer_ belong to Joss Whedon and his group. _Star Wars_ related materials and things belong to George Lucas and his bunch. _Full Metal Alchemist_ and all materials and things related to it belong to Hiromu Arakawa.

Oh, in case I missed anyone-If you recognize it, chances are good, it's not mine!

Yep, its that time of the year-Halloween! And everyone knows what that means . . .Another Halloween Story! And, as in all my Halloween stories, my poor victim is Buffy. Aw, why don't I go pick on somebody else? 'Cause! At sixteen, Buffy is a quivering sensitive bundle of angst, insecurities, growing pains and drama. In other words, she's just fun! And that's _without_ the Slayer!

The gang's Halloween misadventure usually begins with Buffy's infamous Carpal Tunnel excuse to Snyder. That silly excuse has produced quite a few snickers. And I still love it. But what if she hadn't used it? What if she had taken a more aggressive stand? It was one of Buffy's rare nights off the gore and horror treadmill, and I just thought she would have fought a little harder for it.

Warnings for this story are simple and basic enough: It's a Halloween story, so expect a few _Icky!'s_ along the way. Mild stuff, really, by comparison to my other stories. Ed is foul mouthed, and having him in the story meant having his potty mouth in it too.

Okay . . .With nothing more to say, here's the story!

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What if Buffy never used the 'Carpal Tunnel' excuse?

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The Red, The Black, And The White

Ethan Rayne's costume shop was filled up with a mob of paying customers. The tinkling bell over the door announced the entrance of two new customers-Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg.

The two teens looked over their manic fellow shoppers in bright interest.

"Ah, Halloween . . .The come as you ain't holiday," Xander cheerfully commented, echoing Buffy.

"Yeah . . .Too bad Snyder kept Buffy over in detention," Willow said, sadly. In all honesty, Buffy's absence was really her own fault. Willow understood Buffy putting up some kind of token resistance (it would not have been, well, Slayerie, if Buffy had just quietly accepted Snyder's scheme), but outright mulish refusal, and slipping up, and calling Snyder "Trollman" out loud was a guaranteed lifetime sentence to detention hell! In the end, Buffy ended up with detention, Halloween escort duty, and an openly grinning Snyder. "Snyder is a poopy head." Willow declared despondently.

"Yep." Xander nodded in agreement. His cheerful façade momentarily slipping. A pity that secret blood test proved Snyder was Human. They had gone through a great deal of trouble getting a blood sample; Buffy had demanded the blood test, in spite of her Spidey senses reassurances. Even Giles had agreed to the test without so much as a "Oh, dear lord!"-And in the Scoobies opinion, that meant a heckova lot.

"Hmmm . . .So?"

"Meet at the cash register in ten minutes?" Willow offered.

Xander nodded, and twelve minutes later, the two long time friends contently walked out of Ethan Rayne's costume shop with a cursed toy military rifle and a cursed Boo! costume.

It was a bright, morning when a harried Buffy Summers burst into the newly opened Ethan's. In wide-eyed desperation, Buffy stared around the shop at the nearly empty racks-.

"Can I help you, miss?"

"I need a costume!" Buffy blurted out.

"Of course you do, miss." Ethan Rayne nearly grinded his teeth in anger and frustration. Silly girl, Ethan thought; in anticipation of Giles' slayer's appearance in his shop, Ethan had set out for her a lovely eighteenth century noble woman's dress. Her friends had dropped by, but the dress had gone home with some other silly girl. Ah, well, Ethan resigned himself to improvising something else. His eyes quickly darted to the clown costume and bloody nightgown-Hmm, Ethan remembered the books and movies with fondness. An alien, shape shifting, man-eater, and a telekinetic teenager.

Regretfully, the fashion conscious little bint was unlikely to have any interest in those . . .So . . .what was left? Ethan mentally went over his inventory.

"Sorry, miss, but what you see, is currently what is available."

Buffy's desperate eyes darted around the store-She instantly dismissed the bloody nightgown, and as for the clown . . .Xander would never forgive her, given his history with clowns! Besides . . .As _if_ she would wear something like that! Inwardly, Buffy groaned. Maybe she had time to dart off to Party Town? Stupid Trollman Snyder! Buffy viciously condemned the little man. It was _all_ his fault! Okay, Buffy reluctantly acknowledged-She could have been a little more diplomatic when Snyder came around with his '_volunteer_' list. But it was her night off slaying! Calling him a Trollman was an accident. The smirking creature later cut her a deal Buffy would have been stupid to turn down. Whatever else she was, Buffy was certainly _not_ stupid-At least . . .she tried keeping bouts of adolescent stupidity down to manageable levels. Instead of a month of straight detention, if she _volunteered_ for Halloween escort duty, then her sentence was dropped down to one day. Then Snyder added rules that caused Buffy to reconsider the entire deal! Any costume Buffy decided on could not include: cleavage, bare legs, could not be sexually suggestive ("These are young children you are escorting, Summers!"); too tight, too skimpy. The material could not be too thin or transparent . . .Exasperated, Buffy interrupted, and asked Snyder why not have her go as a nun? Buffy was certain her eyes had lit up-She knew a few nuns . . .Snyder shot her down, growling that she was not going to disrespect religious figures!

One thing new, Buffy found out, was that the whole Halloween volunteer thing originated with the mayor. And Snyder, like any good little troll, was just following orders. And he just had to spread his own personal misery around like the flu.

Oh, if only the blood test results had come back none human!

After doing her time in detention, Buffy left the school, prepared to run to Ethan's. Buffy figured she had enough time to get there before the store closed! Her usual bad luck reared up, when that damn demon cult decided to kidnap her. Worse! She fell for the lost puppy trick-"Please, miss . . .Can you help me find my puppy?" the adorable little kid pleaded. Okay, her Spidey senses were kicking her with stiletto heels. Plus, the Anointed One had pulled a similar trick. It was her smirking overconfidence that allowed the creature to come closed enough to hit her in the face with a stream of mace, and its partner, behind her, hit her with a two-by-four! At least, that is what experience told her was used.

When Buffy woke up, chained to a stone slab, it was to a headache, and thanks to the mace, burning eyes and skin. The usual chanting, robed demons, and their sacrifice Buffy thing . . .Nothing new there. What threw her off was the giant, transparent hamster ball, sitting in the middle of everything!

Ugh! If time had permitted, Buffy would have prolonged the slayage until the giant hamster ball was explained. Instead afterwards, she ended up rolling out in it, smashed through several walls and out into the open night!

Leaving the hamster ball at the curb, parked between two tiny cars, Buffy continued her run to Ethan's. However, her Slayer duty reared up again! Just blocks away, screams and pleas sidetracked the increasingly frustrated Slayer. A small group of drunken partygoers had been cornered in a dead-end alley by a pack of vampires. No biggie . . .The vamp dust was still floating in the air, by the time Buffy staked the last one. And, of course, it had to happen! Her left foot came down on a beer bottle-Buffy's feet flew out from under her, and she landed with an unhealthy _snap_! Horrific pain radiated out from her broken left leg.

The group Buffy had rescued had been uncommon, in that they stuck around and helped her up. Buffy waved off offers to help her to the hospital-She assured them she was alright. It was only a broken bone; Buffy had experienced worse injuries. Not that she told any of those nice, concerned folks that.

Hobbling as fast as she could, Buffy arrived at a dark and locked store. And let loose a stream of foul and vicious curses all aimed at one man. Running out of names and odd painful positions and conditions to pour down on Snyder, Buffy pushed herself away from the story front and headed home, resolved to return bright and early.

A number of hours later, her leg had healed and off to Ethan's she had gone. And now . . .Buffy thought through her options-Party Town was really too expensive for her to consider, but . . .Mentally, Buffy said goodbye to the blouse she had been planning on buying, and quietly cursed troll Snyder to death by a dozen, butting, trampling Billy goats!

"Miss, miss? I may have one costume left in your size . . ."

A few minutes later, and a relieved, and fairly astonished, Slayer walked out of the store with a costume in her hand. Behind her, Ethan Rayne, Chaos mage and costume shop owner, broke out in a malicious grin.

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Buffy's House Halloween:

_Ding! Dong!_

Joyce Summers opened the door. "Private Harris at your service, Ma'am!" And smiled. "Hello, Xander. And . . .?"

"Hello, Mrs. Summers," Willow greeted her from under the concealing Boo! costume.

"And Willow," Joyce Summers finished. "Please, come on in." If she noticed the teenagers twitch and wince she said nothing. Teenagers were strange . . .Just look at her Buffy. They crossed the threshold, and Joyce closed the door behind them.

"Hey, guys! All ready, here!" Buffy cheerfully called out from behind them. Xander and Willow turned and saw Buffy's costume for the first time.

"So? What do you think of my costume?" Buffy turned around slowly to give them a full 360 view of her costume. Xander and Willow looked at it with open interest.

"Um, what is it suppose to be?" Willow asked.

Buffy's grin dropped, and she sighed in resignation. "I think it's suppose to be some kind of movie theater usher, or a bellhop, or given the coat, maybe a doorman. I should feel lucky I got it, instead of you know, smothered by it, 'cause it was the only thing left in my size that's Snyder approved!" Buffy decided not to tell them about the clown costume or the bloody nightgown.

Her friends thought Buffy could be right. Buffy was wearing white gloves, a red hooded coat; underneath the coat, the costume was mostly black-Black combat boots, black pants, belt, a black, white trim jacket closed at the throat with a broach. From the jacket pocket hung a silver chain. Underneath the jacket, a black shirt-both gloves had a strange, oddly familiar design on them. The back of the coat had a design of a black snake, wrapped around an iron cross. Above it, were a couple of wings and a crown. Buffy hair was done in a loose braid, beginning at the back of her neck.

Something tickled at the back of Xander's mind. But since it remained elusive, Xander pursued another train of thought. He felt . . .hmm . . .happy? Yep, Buffy's wraparound doorman costume made him feel good. The Captain of the hair gel team had just had his eye jollies snatched away by a vindictive troll. Yay! That made Xander feel all kinds of happy! A pity it was only for a few hours. A little disappointing, but Xander had learned to take whatever he could in life. A detailed vision of a certain hair obsessed animated corpse applying gasoline gel into his hair and a spark of static electricity, caused Xander to break out into a wide, happy grin, innocently mirrored by Buffy.

Willow commiserated with her friend-It was just not fair Buffy had to miss out in dressing as something glamorous and romantic. Back at the costume shop, Willow had seen a beautiful eighteen-century noblewoman's dress that Buffy would have looked great in. Mean poopy head Snyder! Willow idly considered doing a little hacking and making a few discrete changes to the troll's credit rating and DMV records.

"You, you still look good, Buffy." Willow said, shyly.

"Oh, yeah . . .I've always _loved_ a woman in uniform!" Said Xander, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.

Buffy's smile widened, and she felt a _tiny_ bit better about her awful costume. "Thanks, guys!"

"Awww, you three look adorable!" Joyce smiled, fondly. It was her baby's last trick-or-treat Halloween, and Joyce wanted a memento. Her camera in her hand, Joyce motioned them closer. "Let me take a picture before you go."

A few minutes later, the trio stumbled outside, blinking away camera flash afterimages from their eyes.

"Sorry about that guys," Buffy apologized.

"No problem, Buffy," Xander said, reassuring her with a slight smile. No, no problem at all . . .A real problem came in the form of an alcoholic parent too sloshed to remain upright, or make it to the sofa before collapsing. Worse still, having the drunk lose control of bladder and sphincter muscles. And that was the better portion of their sorry behavior-If the drunk was a mean one . . .Yeah, no problem at all, Buffy. No problem at all.

"Yeah, Buffy-Joyce taking our photo was sweet," Willow said. The Rosenberg family album was dismally brief. There was her parents wedding album, vacation photos and a few pictures of family and friends; Willow herself, was only sporadically represented in her family's pictorial records.

Buffy glumly reminded them. "You realize that photo is blackmail material, right?"

"Yeah," Xander laughed.

Buffy rolled her eyes up and pivoted on her heel, briskly marching towards the school, while her amused friends followed a few steps behind her.

****

After Ethan Activated The Spell:

"Al! Al!" Edward Elric had no idea how he end up standing in the middle of a strange town, at night, with a full blown riot taking place! And no Al in sight!

"Shit!" Ed suddenly noticed some of the rioters were little kids in costumes, but others . . .?!

He had to find some place to think! And-What the hell?! Ed suddenly noticed the additions to his chest! They were on the smallish side, but they were definitely breasts. His horror increased when he noticed his crotch was missing certain bulges!

Numbed, Ed whispered in shock, "Oh, fuck! I'm a girl!"

And his right hand and left leg felt . . .Yeah . . .They felt like . . .Slowly, Ed stripped the glove off it and instead of silver automail, revealed a dainty, feminine hand; pink nail polish on each perfectly manicured fingernail. Staring in open shocked disbelief at the hand, Ed slowly reached down to his left leg and through the pants material felt the warmth and pliancy of real flesh.

Screaming people ran pass Ed. He was oblivious to them, wrapped up in his own nightmare-Oh . . .I get it now, Ed considered with some relief, his panicked tension seeping away. I either fell asleep, or I got knocked unconscious again! So, I am dreaming-This is a dream. He stared calmly at a large fairy, with gossamer wings, fluttering by. He gracefully avoided the thrown cars, and noted how '_real_' the fires engulfing houses and cars and a few bodies seemed-The heat and smell exactly as he remembered it. Not surprising he would have images like that haunting his subconscious. Ed walked nonchalantly around a large puddle of blood. Ed decided there was no way he was ever going to tell anyone of the dream . . .For one thing, he was a girl! Ed scowled at the thought of what some psychiatrist might make of it!

"Buffy! Buffy!"

A red headed, leather clad hooker ran up to him; Ed was not at all surprised when someone ran through the girl. It was a dream, after all. She skidded to a stop in front of him, calling out "Buffy!" and Ed momentarily wondered what kind of dog she had lost. Then a sneaking suspicion blossomed-He abruptly twisted around, trying to get a glimpse of his rear. It was a nice rear, Ed noted, better yet, no tail attached to it! If there had been one . . .Let me see, Ed mused, a female, a tail, oh, and going by the name of Buffy, in addition to the fun things rampaging in sight-. If _all_ that had been the case, then Ed would have considered an appointment with the shrink-As it was, being a girl, with the apparent name of '_Buffy'_, just stopped short of warranting that type of extreme action.

Just barely.

"Scram!" Ed snarled at the red head hooker. "Can't you see I'm having a nervous breakdown here?"

"Uh, you're not whoever you think you are, Buffy!" The wide-eyed hooker hastily explained. "You're not you! You're Buffy! You just think you're you because you turned into your costume-No! No! Buffy turned into her costume! You're her costume!"

Ed eyed the girl warily. His first instinct was to categorize her as a nut. But then another screamer ran blindly through the girl, and Ed internally shrugged-He was dreaming, so what the hell? "Okay, say I buy what you're saying . . .What next?"

The girl beamed relief. "Now, we find Xander!"

"Uh? Who the hell is Xander?"

Xander turned out to be a soldier. A decent enough kneecapper when it came to furry, walking rugs and pirates. The damsel in distress he rescued was a loud mouth princess, dressed up in a skintight cat suit.

Does she thank her rescuer? Or acknowledge her savior in any favorable way? Hell no! She instead insulted him and them, and called them crazy! Ed retaliated and called her an "unimaginative bimbo" while slowly assessing her from head to toe with a disgusted eye.

"_Excuse_ me?! What did you call me?" Cordellia snarled.

"Dumb and deaf-Not at all attractive, honey," Ed said, in a bored tone.

After that Cordellia managed to throw in 'midget' and 'shrimp' in at least six times. Ed hauled up 'cheap blow-up doll' and 'cheap boob job' at least seven times before he transmuted a trashcan into a large, round, polished metal mirror. "Here! I'll prove it to you!" Ed held it up in front of Cordellia-Under her image, the word "BIMBO" was boldly inscribed.

A short scream of outrage, and Cordellia pounced on the alchemist, grabbing hold of the mirror in both hands! The brief tug-of-war ended when Slayer strength snatched the mirror away from the furious teenager and accidentally sent it flying off into the bushes!

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When Drusilla warned her Childe, Spike, not to go out, the master vamp disregarded the mad seer's words and stepped out their warehouse lair-It was Halloween: What was the worse that could happen?

Not long afterwards, Spike found himself reveling in the dark, chaotic violence that had overtaken the normally bland celebration. He discovered the Slayer and her idiot friends, out in the streets, arguing, while he lurked in the bushes. The red head fluttering frantically about trying to intervene between the two other girls, while the boy watched their surroundings and guarded the distracted trio. He had to admit he was a little surprised the Slayer dressed up as a doorman-but, hey, whatever. What threw Spike into shocked surprise was the girl turning a dustbin into a metal mirror, in a flash of light. Then said mirror being lopped off in his direction, then bouncing off his head, knocking him unconscious! The Master vamp crumpled to the ground, and lay still long enough for a group of Jawas to gain confidence and cautiously emerge from the shadows and approach the peroxide blond's undead body.

A ripping, pounding headache welcomed Spike into consciousness. In fact, it screamed in the shrillest, drill-like voice possible; it crashed cymbals together; it beat drum sets in enclosed areas! It-He opened reluctant eyes to stare in disbelief at a graying sky! His next nasty surprise came when a breeze ran over his bare skin. Oi! Bloody, buggerin' hell! He had been robbed! Spike scrambled to his bare feet and dashed out of the bushes and to the nearest manhole cover, like a cockroach scurrying for cover!

Jumping down into the safe darkness of the sewers, Spike vowed to himself to heed Dru next time, no matter what kind of near incoherent crap she was ranting about-_And_ stay home next Halloween!

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Xander's piercing whistle bought the fight to a halt. The combatants eyed each other with deadly intent, but paused to listen to the soldier.

"Ladies," Xander said, with derisive contempt. "Ordinarily, I wouldn't mind a good cat fight, but right now, we're waist high in monsters and we need to get off the streets and figure out what's going on!"

"He-he's right. Xander's right," said Willow. She brightened. "We can go to Buffy's house! It's closest."

Ed considered his nemesis. The glint in her eye, a promise of violence Ed was certain was reciprocated in his own. They held their poises for a moment before relaxing-The Soldier was right. They had to find cover and plan out their next action. Ugh, what a dream . . .A cat fight with a cat! Figures.

"Anything in Buffy's house that can help us out here?" Ed asked, with a scowl.

"Um, Buffy has weapons," Willow replied.

Ed's scowl deepened. "I can _make_ weapons, dammit! What we need is information! Got anyone or anything out here that could help us get information?"

Willow thought and then-"Giles! He's-he's in the school library! He can help! The school's this way!"

"Finally!" Ed growled, and marched after the ghostly hooker.

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He really had intended to stay inside for Halloween. He really did. But Angel felt the irresistible urge to see Buffy. No, no, no . . .There was no _stalking_ involved, Angel hastily assured himself. He just wanted to make sure Buffy was alright. Nothing wrong with that, was there? Of course not! There was nothing wrong in checking on her; making certain she was safe. And that was _not_ stalking!

Sure, nothing really happened on Halloween; but, it was the Hellmouth. Something _could_ potentially happen . . .And he had to be prepared-By being with Buffy. All night long, if necessary. Just in case something happened. Just in case.

Rationalizing his decision, Angel paused at the threshold of his front door and wondered if Buffy was going to like the scent of his new hair gel.

Angel took no less then four steps out on the street, when a screaming pack of kids and a few adults ran past him. If it had been any other night, other then Halloween, then Angel would have been concerned. And Angel remained unconcerned-Until the fairy flew past him chased by a lightsaber waving mini Darth Vader!

A lightsaber. A real working, humming lightsaber. Angel watched as the diminutive Darth took off a sliver of brick from a building's corner as he ran by. A lightsaber. A real working lightsab-.

"Buffy!" Angel roared.

On cue, a flying pink pig emptied it bladder's entire contents on him! From the back of his mind, a soft voice berated him-"What did you expect? It's the _Hellmouth_, after all!" It said, smugly.

Fighting his way through the chaos engulfed streets, Angel made it to Buffy's house in one piece-Barely. The house was quiet and still. Angel decided to make sure no one was home. He quickly removed the spare key from its hiding place and let himself in, closing and locking the door behind him in relieved gratitude. From the stillness in the air, Angel could tell no one was home. He walked into to the livingroom and considered his options. Hmmm, Buffy must have gone to the library; that is where they all go when things get Hellmouthy. _Hellmouthy?_ Amazed, Angel handled the word in his head-_Hellmouthy?_ One of Buffy's words . . .A sure sign he had been around the Californian teenager for too long, Angel thought in bemusement.

Buffy . . .Teenager . . .She was sixteen. While he was two hundred and seventy: Angel scowled at the livingroom floor. Even after subtracting his undead years, Liam had been twenty-six when he had died; _still_ too old for her! But his mother had been younger then his father, when they-_That was then, a continent and two centuries ago, _whispered that annoying voice in the back of his mind. _Here and now, they call it statutory rape-Aside from being a randy, old goat, the fact remains that A) You are a vampire; soul or no soul. And, B) Buffy's a vampire slayer!_ Angel allowed his frustration to run through him-The arguments had been pacing across the same ground for so long, they had worn away sizable and respectable ruts.

With an effort, Angel recaptured his wondering thoughts and refocused on finding Buffy. He had to get to the library. Leaving the house, Angel closed and locked the door, carefully returning the spare key to its hiding place. Once again, Angel threw himself back into the mystical free-for-all taking place in Sunnyhell's streets.

A few blocks later, Angel was chased out into the street by gigantic bees. He heard a rumbling behind him and quickly twisted around-And got run over by a giant, transparent hamster ball, with three Human size chipmunks inside it!

Eventually, a battered Angel made it to the school. His formally pristine leather jacket was a collection of smoking holes, scorch marks, cutting slashes, bite marks interspersed with various hued slime and globs of clinging saliva. Angel's hair had suffered terrible desecration-It stuck out in odd spikes and had bits of unidentifiable debris caught in it. He found an empty library, a cold mug of tea, and moments later, the external sounds of combat abruptly stopping. Straining his senses, the unmistakable wail of sirens reached him-Sunnydale emergency services only appeared _after _the danger had passed. Angel was confident Buffy had triumphed and put a stop to whatever had happened. At the same moment, Angel was keenly aware that he was alone in the library.

Not a good thing, he decided, and quickly ghosted out of the library and school. Angel knew that if he stayed and was discovered by the gang, not only would the boy point out that he was late and unhelpful in the crisis, but his appearance might become a problem. Angel admitted that in his current state, his rival was likely to score a few points-Especially, when he stood in a room with a Buffy that likely went all out on a costume. For a brief, brief moment Angel allowed himself to fantasize about Buffy, then he hastily returned his attention to the sewers he was in. No, he stayed home, like a good little vampire, and avoided Halloween. That was the story, and he was sticking like glue to it!

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"Jonathan! Would you quit shoving me!"

"You stomped on my foot first, Andrew!"

"Would you two quit it?!" Roared Warren.

Going as Alvin and the Chipmunks seemed like a cool idea-Girls liked cute and furry animals, plus, they had the whole cool band thing going on. Then they found the giant, transparent hamster ball abandoned at the curb . . .Yes! An obvious divine sign!

But rolling around inside a giant hamster ball was harder then it seemed-Especially making it go in the right direction. Then the last weird few hours . . .Okay, they admitted . . .Rather then problematic, the hamster ball actually turned into a lifesaver for them! Keeping them safe from the freaky goings on outside. No matter whatever else happened, they were keeping the hamster ball.

"Aw!"

"Andrew!"

"Keep rolling, guys! Keep rolling!"

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Edward Elric stood to one side, in the school library, partly listening to the catgirl complain about her costume ("-Party Town is never going to give me back my deposit!"). Ed dismissed the girl's yaking as background noise, _annoying_ background noise, and studied his reflection in the mirror on the wall. He was still blond, had long hair, and had it braided down his back-Beyond that, things were different. Different as in, oh, not so little things like sculpted eyebrows, green eyes, and lipstick! The face could have been perfect, except for that thing with the nose.

Yeah . . .Ed was certain he was the only person he knew of, that would place an imperfection like that on his dreamself . . .His dreams could take prizes in the warped category, Ed concluded.

"Ethan's? Are you certain about that?" A new voice cut into Ed's musings-It was the librarian, Giles. The ghost girl, Willow, had led them into the school library; a middle-age man, with graying brown hair and glasses, was sitting at one of the tables, reading a massive old book, a steaming mug in reach. The guy nearly jumped out of his skin when Willow walked halfway through his table! Heh! Heh! Now, that was just fun.

Giles recognized the name? Yeah, yeah, he did, Ed certain. From Giles' reaction and his idea to confront Ethan alone, Ed had to say they had a history-A volatile one, Ed was sure.

Eh, what a terrible and complex thing his mind was! Action! Danger! Drama! Ed smirked in smug satisfaction. The dream, that had started out as a nightmare, was really picking up entertainment points.

With two stubborn females protesting and discarding Giles' original plan, their entire group ended up plunging back into the mystically fueled riot. They fought, ran, and sneaked their way across town to Ethan's costume shop. They slipped through openings Ed made in the side of the stores next to Ethan's; jumping into his occupied bathroom. Literally catching Ethan with his pants around his ankles.

Ed, expecting fierce resistance, was actually disappointed, when after only a few hits by Giles, the Chaos mage folded and told them how to disperse the spell, by breaking the bust of Janus. Damn! Talk about a coward!

The Soldier and the catgirl reached the damn bust at the same time. Grabbed it, and together, hurled it down to the ground!

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"Ed? Ed? Brother, wake up!"

Ed jerked awake with a slightly wet snort. He looked around, blinking in confusion-Oh, the Dream, yeah . . .Oh, shit! Ed stared in horror at the back of Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes, He-Of-The-Many-Many-Photos-Of-Daughter-Elicia-In-His-Wallet, head and his wife, Gracia, sitting in front him. Damn, damn, damn, damn! He was back at Elicia's kiddie recital! The one brother Al had talked him into attending!

Ed sighed softly, and rubbed his eyes with his automail hand, shifting in the uncomfortable chair. An hour more before the torture ended-Thanks a lot, Al! Too bad about his dream, Ed thought wistfully. It had been such a good one, too.

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"You and Cordy good?"

"Yeah, Xander." Buffy said, with a slight shrug. "Well, as good as we're ever gonna get. Fixing her Party Town costume got me forgiven for last night."

"Uh, Buffy?" Willow said, uncertainly. "Aren't you going to tell Giles you still have Ed's alchemy powers?"

"Mem . . .Not just yet. Giles, being of the stuffy Watcher and tweed set, might find a way of squeezing the fun out of it."

"Sooo, Buffy, what's the plan now?" Asked Xander, curious.

"Plan? Got nothing really, except . . .Xander, Wills, how about we do a little research?"

"On what?" Willow said.

Buffy grinned. "On gold prices!"

****

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For anyone still going '_Huh?'_ about it, the bloody nightgown and clown suit come courtesy of master of horror, Stephen King via _Carrie_ and _It_.

And no. I don't own them either.

Thanks for reading. And have a happy, safe Halloween! Bye!


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